Clean Slate
by Carol3059
Summary: He woke up in the woods. That's all he remembers.
1. Chapter 1

Note: This is set pre series. Before Sam went to college. Dean's 20, Sam's 16.

Don't own anything.

He woke up in the middle of some woods. He looked frantically around, trying to place where he was and why he was here in the first place. When he searched his memories he found them blank, though. That was when he started to panic. He closed his eyes and tried to bring something up, but couldn't. In a daze he started walking. What else could he do?

He was on his way out of the woods when he decided to search through his pockets. He found a wallet. It held a few twenty's but nothing else. No I.D. He was also beginning to get worried that he would get lost in these woods.

He was pretty calm considering by the time that he reached the edge of the woods. But now he didn't know what to do. He debated on going to the cops or the hospital. He hesitated on both ideas, though. He didn't know why but he knew that for some reason he didn't like cops or hospitals. He instead went to the nearest motel and booked a room. It was irrational. He should get to the hospital, but some irrational part of his brain kept screaming at him not to. He decided to go. Later.

He walked into the motel room and sat down on the bed for a moment before getting up and going into the bathroom. He stripped off his jacket and shirt. He had several scars across his chest. He touched one that ran down his side. It looked like claw marks. He frowned and looked up into the mirror. He stared at his reflection for a few minutes, trying desperately to remember who the hell it was staring at him back. He ran a hand over short dark blonde hair. Dark green eyes stared back at him. He didn't like how blank they were. He ran a hand across his face. He noted the features in the mirror, trying to place them. High cheekbones, full lips. He had to admit the person in the mirror was handsome. He sighed and walked back into the other room and lay back on the bed. Maybe he should go to the hospital after all.

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John was worried. Dean had gone out on his own hunt a few days ago, but John had made Dean promise to call every night. Dean knew better than to break that rule. He had tried to call Dean's cell but got nothing but voicemail. John paced the room and made a decision. He put his phone away and went to get his and Sam's things. He was picking Sam up from school and then they were going to find Dean.

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Sam fidgeted in the passengers seat. Worry ate at him. For once since he had become a teenager he hadn't argued with his dad about leaving town so quick. He hated the thought that Dean might be in trouble. Why did he have to go out hunting alone? Dean had practically begged John for ages before John had finally caved. Sam looked anxiously at the road ahead. They were so far away. To far away.

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He fidgeted in the hard plastic chair in the waiting area of the emergency room. He really didn't like this place. It was frustrating as hell. He didn't remember why he didn't like hospitals, just that he didn't. The nurse at the desk had handed him forms to fill out when he'd walked in. He had stared blankly at the first line that asked for his name for a moment before telling the nurse that he didn't remember his name. Finally another nurse came to get him and sat him in an exam room. He waited there for what seemed like forever before the doctor came in. The man asked him a bunch of questions. _What's the last thing you remember? Do you have any headaches?_ No. _Blurred vision? _No. And on like that. He was sent in for a few tests. A CT scan. A few others.

After the tests he lay back in the bed in the hospital. He could remember things. Like he knew what a CT scan was. He just couldn't remember how or why he knew. He guessed he had the same feelings too. After all his distaste for hospitals had to come from before. He sighed and glanced blankly at the name on the hospital bed. John Doe. Huh. He'd have to come up with something better than that.


	2. Chapter 2

Note: So, I used real city names. Everything else is made up. I don't live in Tennessee so I don't really know about the towns. So the only thing that's really accurate here is the names.

He walked idly down the street, not really knowing where he was going. The town he was in was rather small. He had found out in the hospital he was in Morristown, Tennessee. He was extremely frustrated. The tests showed nothing. Nothing was wrong with him, at least not physically. He was still a little pissed about what the doctor had suggested. That it might be psychological. _I'm not crazy! _Except how did he know that, for sure? He didn't even remember his own name. One of the nurses from the hospital had taken a little pity on him and told him were he could go to get something to eat. This, for some reason, only pissed him off more. _I'm not a fuckin' invalid either! _Except he really had nothing. Just forty bucks in a wallet he didn't remember buying and his clothes.

He had learned a few more things about himself since going to the hospital. Like the fact that he seemed to prefer dark colors. His jacket was black and his shirt was dark grey. His jeans were frayed in several places. He wondered if it was a money or fashion thing. He had a feeling it was more of a money thing, though.

He had found himself flirting with one of the pretty young nurses while he was in the hospital. He hadn't even realized he had been doing it until she had said something. He had found it sort of automatic. So he knew he liked women. That was about it, though.

He had decided to take the nurses advise and go to the diner that she had mentioned. He really didn't have much of a choice. He didn't have anywhere else to go.

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John pulled up to the last motel in town. He and Sam had been searching for Dean since they had gotten here. John had found out what Dean had been hunting. It was just a spirit. Something Dean should have been able to handle. His heart sped up a little when he saw the Impala parked in front of the motel.

Sam looked over at his father, feeling his worry growing. He was going to be pissed if Dean just hadn't called. But deep down he knew that wasn't really the case. Dean would have called by now. He got out of the car with John.  
"Maybe you should stay here, Sammy." John said, breaking the silence that had fallen between them while they had been searching.

"No." Sam said, shaking his head furiously. "I'm not staying in the car." John sighed and merely nodded. It attested to the worry they felt for Dean that it hadn't turned into a fight. John found Dean's room number and Sam picked the lock expertly. He opened the door and stopped short. The first thing he noticed as he stepped inside was that Dean's things were there, scattered around the room. His cell phone was sitting at the foot of the bed, open. Sam reached out and picked it up. Dean had been trying to make a call. There were hastily drawn lines of salt around the door and window. Sam turned back to John, panic setting in.

"Dad..." John looked up at Sam. Sam could see the same fear and panic in his dad's eyes.

"We'll find him." John said firmly. Sam swallowed and nodded.

"But, dad, how? Kingsport isn't huge but it isn't small either."

"We'll find him, Sammy. We'll go through everything."

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He sat in the tiny restaurant, eating. The owner, Becky, turned out to be the nurse from the hospital's sister. The woman was a short forty year old. She was nice enough, but he still felt a little uncomfortable around her. Classic rock played from the juke box in the corner. He got up when he finished and went over to it. He'd decided that he liked this music. It actually had a familiarity to it that he, of course, couldn't place. While he was flipping through the albums he actually decided on a name.

"How are you doin', honey?" Becky asked as she came over to him.

"Jim." He said.

"What?"

"That's my name."

"You remembered that?" He shook his head.

"No, but I gotta call myself somethin' and I like the name." Becky looked in the jukebox t the band he had clicked on. She listened to the song for a second.

"I think his names Jimmy, honey." He shrugged.

"I like Jim better." She smiled a little at him.

"Well, come on. You better finish that meal, _Jim_." He smirked a little at her.

"Yes, ma'am." She stared at him for a moment.

"I don't get it." She said finally.

"Don't get what?"

"Well, you lost your memory. Woke up in the middle of nowhere with no idea how you got there. How are you not more freaked out?" He shrugged.

"Stranger things have happened."

"Yeah. But, to you?" He blinked up at her. He got the distinct feeling that, yes, stranger things _had _happened to him.

Note: I looked at a map of Tennessee and figured from it that Kingsport and Morristown are about forty miles apart. So, Dean ended up forty miles away from were he should be. I don't really know how big the towns really are so that parts made up. Also, the name, I know it's not the most original, it's just a little bit of Dean connecting with something from his past, even if he doesn't remember it. If you don't know who I'm talking about it's Jimmy Page, the guitarist from Led Zeppelin.


	3. Chapter 3

Note: When in Dean's POV from now on, I'm going to be referring to him as Jim. Sorry if I slip up.

Jim looked around Becky's house. The woman had convinced him to sleep in her guest room for the night. He had told her reluctantly that he'd decided to go to the police station tomorrow to see if they could find out anything. He sighed. He felt extremely uncomfortable here. And going to the police made him nervous. He was still on the reluctant side. A distrust for anything that resembled the law coming out that, of course he didn't know were it came from. He needed to find out who he was, though. He couldn't live in Becky's guest room for the rest of his life. He spent a very uncomfortable dinner in her dining room making light conversation. He went to bed early. It wasn't until he laid down on the bed that he realized how truly exhausted he was. He fell asleep pretty quickly.

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Sam sat in the Impala in the drivers seat. John was out. Sam didn't know were the man was but he knew he was searching. They had already looked through Dean's things. They had talked to the people who Dean had talked to. They had went the same places. They had found nothing. No indication of where Dean was. It was just a spirit. Dean had even finished the hunt. They knew it wasn't that. Something else had gotten to him.

Sam wearily ran his hands over the steering wheel of the Impala. He had driven it today. Rode behind his father to another motel because John didn't feel the one Dean had stayed in was safe. It felt wrong. It should have been Dean in the drivers seat. Sam had only driven the car a couple of times. Mostly when Dean was to injured to drive or when Dean was trying to cheer Sam up without actually having to talk about it. Still, even when he did drive the car, Dean was always in the passenger seat threatening Sam with bodily harm if he got so much as a scratch her. But now it's empty.

Sam was getting out of the car, resolved to stop sulking. That would not help Dean. He was just closing the door when John's truck pulled up to the motel. John stepped out and glared at Sam.

"Sam, I told you to stay in the motel." He said. Sam sighed.

"I know." He said simply. "Find anything?" He asked, trying to divert John.

"No." John growled. He walked over to Sam and gripped his son's arm and began dragging him back to the motel. Sam pulled his arm out of John's grasp and turned to face the man.

"Dad, what the-" Sam's words cut off at the look in John's eyes. There was anger in his eyes, of course, but what stopped Sam was the barely concealed panic in his fathers eyes. Sam sighed.

"Dad, we're going to find him." He said quietly. John's lips thinned.

"I know that, Sammy. But I don't need to be looking for you too." John's voice rose a little bit in anger. "Just do what I tell you."

"Alright." Sam said quietly and followed his dad back into the motel room. He really didn't think it was a good idea to fight with John right now. Sam could see in his eyes that the man was at the breaking point.

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He felt the rush, holding the shotgun up. He pulled the trigger, smiling.

The knife in his hand flashed. It was here. He rounded the corner, raising the knife.

Many other images followed. Just snippets but they were all violent.

He watched the flames. His first kill. Pride welled up in him as he looked up at the older man beside him.

He woke up with a start and immediately felt sick. _Oh, god. _He closed his eyes but snapped them open again when the images from his dream flashed in his mind. A feeling of dread settled over him. _At least I know why I don't like cops. _He thought. His chest tightened at the thought and he was finding it hard to breathe. For the first time since he'd woken up in the woods he was starting to panic. _Your a killer. _He pushed away the thought furiously. But the facts were there. One thing was for sure, he wasn't going to go to the cops. And he wasn't sure he wanted to remember anymore.

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She watched him as he got out of bed and moved around the house. He was looking a little pale. A cruel smile played on her lips. It had been a risk, letting those snippets of his memory out. But a necessary one. There had been a chance of something else leaking out, but she couldn't have him going to the cops or meeting Sam and John this soon. Her smile grew as she thought of her plan. Killing them wasn't enough. She wanted them to suffer. And, oh, how they would suffer.


	4. Chapter 4

He stood in front of the mirror again, staring at his reflection. Only this time, he wasn't trying to figure out how old he really was or if he was in college or had a family looking for him. He stared at himself and wondered if the face staring back at him was a killer. Flashes from his dreams ran through his mind. He closed his eyes and wondered if in a different life he would have taken the kitchen knife and used it on Becky. He shuddered at the morbid thought and the image that sprang up in his mind. He would never be able to do something like that. So, what the hell did that mean?

Experiences. That's what made a killer a killer, right? He mused silently as he got ready for a shower, turning on the water. Sure some of them were just crazy but if that were true in his case, losing his memory probably wouldn't have changed that. So, he was back to the question of what had happened to him to make him that way? As this question floated around in his mind, he found himself angry. Pissed off, at himself. So what if he had a bad childhood or something. That didn't give anyone the right to kill another person. Lot's of people had bad childhood's and didn't turn into monsters. He sighed and rested his head against the shower wall when he realized that he was actually angry with himself for something he wasn't even sure he'd done. But the awful facts of the dream he'd had came back. It was too real to simply be a dream. Too real to ignore.

He got dressed silently, and took one more look at his reflection. Becky was calling him for breakfast. Calling the name he'd chosen. The thought came that that wasn't really his name. It was just some fucking stupid name he'd picked out because he couldn't remember his own. He'd use it, of course. Because now he was sure, he didn't want to remember his own.

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Sam woke up with a yell. The chair he'd fallen asleep in tipped backwards and he ended up on the floor. He'd fallen asleep on his open laptop after looking for hours on the thing. Sam sat on the floor for a minute before feeling his lunch coming up on him. He sprang up and ran into the bathroom, making it to the toilet just in time.

After he finished he sat back, resting against the tub. He'd had awful dreams. Dreams were Dean died in horrible and gruesome ways. Or of him and his dad finding just a body. He reached a hand up to rub his face and realized there were tears on his cheeks. He felt a sense of hopelessness he had never felt before settle over him. He sat on the floor for several minutes, drowning in it.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to Sam, he pulled himself together and stood up. After rinsing his mouth out in the sink he went back into the other room. He stared at his open laptop. His dad wasn't here, of course. _Your not going to find him. _The thought came floating across his mind, but he pushed it away. Or tried to. But it stayed there, in the back of his mind. He couldn't consider it, though. Wouldn't. Because, he wasn't sure he'd survive this life without Dean. He went back to the computer, and decided he wouldn't be sleeping for a while. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Dean's lifeless ones staring back at him.

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John was in his truck when the thought struck him. _Your not going to find him. _He stopped short in the middle of the road. Luckily no one was behind him. He growled and pulled over. _Of course I'm going to find him. _John thought angrily. How could he even be thinking these thoughts? It hadn't been that long since Dean disappeared. _He's already dead. _John paled a little at that thought, and tried to push it away. He closed his eyes and rubbed them angrily. He snapped them open, however, when an image of his oldest son lying in a pool of blood. His open lifeless green eyes staring at John. John felt a wave of despair wash over him stronger than anything he'd felt since Mary had died. He started the truck and headed off in another direction.

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Sam was taking a break when John came back. He had been searching for hours and his eyes had started to burn. He looked up when John came through the door. Or, maybe the better word was stumbled through the door. Sam sprang up, worry in his gut.

"Dad, what's-" He stopped short when he got close to John. When he caught the sour scent of cheap whiskey. His worry instantly transformed to anger.

"Dad, what the hell?! Dean is missing! He's counting on us to find him!"

"We're not going to find him." John slurred a little. He slumped down on one of the beds. Sam drew back, his anger growing.

"Yes we are. Don't you say that." His voice came out a low growl that he didn't even know he could make.

"It's true, Sammy. He's gone." Sam was about to retort but John laid back on the bed and passed out. Sam stared at his father angrily. How could he give up like this? Dean hadn't been missing for that long. Sam blinked, and his anger died some. He stared at his dad, and the thought came that John Winchester never gave up. On anything. Hell, the man had been searching for the demon that killed Mary for fifteen years. His dark eyes narrowed. _Something's fucking with us. _

Note: I know, not much dialogue in this chapter, but I thought scaring the hell out of John and Sam would be easier if they were separated. I figured Sam would be the first to figure out something wasn't right, too.


	5. Chapter 5

Note: I refer to Dean as Jim a lot in this chapter. Kind of had to or it probably would have gotten confusing.

He walked slowly down the street towards the nearest bus stop. He didn't really know were he was going or what he was going to do when he got there, but he knew he had to get away. He'd talked to Becky. Lied to her really. Told her he was going to the police and he wanted to do it alone. He'd used the excuse to get away. He'd left her a note, thanking her. He knew it was kind of a shitty thing to do. Especially to someone who had only tried to help, but he couldn't stay there, not after what he had learned. In fact he was a little bit wary of being around anyone at the moment. He smirked to himself. _So, what are you going to do? Live in a shack in the middle of the woods? _He sighed, closing his eyes. What the hell was he supposed to do? He had no drivers license, no money. Hell, he didn't even have a name. So maybe he'd, what? Wonder from town to town looking for a job that didn't require little things like a last name or identification? He paid for a bus ticket with what little money he did have and got on. He sat in the back, hoping people would leave him alone.

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Sam paced the tiny motel room, thinking. He chewed his lip and glanced at John every few seconds. The man was still passed out on his bed. Sam didn't know what to do. If whatever took Dean could get to him and John then it could still be watching them. Who knows what would happen if it found out Sam's suspicions. So, how the hell would he find this thing and Dean without tipping whatever it was off? He couldn't tell John, not yet anyways. Not if the man was still under this things influence. He glanced at his laptop and ran a hand through his hair. It seemed like his safest bet. He'd been working on the thing since Dean disappeared anyways. He sat down and opened it. Sighing, he rubbed tired eyes before logging on.

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Jim got off the bus in a slightly bigger town and looked around. _Now what? _He spotted a bar not to far away and checked his cash. He sighed. He didn't have enough money for a motel room, but he could use a drink. He'd figure everything out.

When he walked into the bar he ordered a drink and sat down. He gazed around at the other people. There were several people drinking at the bar, a few people were playing darts in the corner. His gaze caught on the pool tables in the center, though. Two large men were playing a game on one of them. He focused his eyes on the game, enrapt. One of the guys, the bigger of the two wasn't doing so good. He watched while the guy missed his next shot badly. The other guy was looking extremely pleased with himself as he finished the game. He frowned as he watched. The bigger man was asking for another. Two out of three. Jim cocked his head to the side and stared at the guy that had lost. His first thought was that the guy wasn't very smart, but there was something about the guy. He racked the balls with a gleam in his eyes that the man he was playing didn't seem to notice. Jim smiled a little and almost laughed out loud when he realized what was going on. He watched the game with more interest.

It didn't take long for the bigger man to win easily. He took the other man's money, smirking. Jim chewed his lip. He'd recognized what the guy was doing before he was doing it. He knew the shots the guy made. _So, I know how to play pool. _He filed it away with the other things he'd learned about himself. Maybe he could use it later. The bigger man was now wanting to play again. He was challenging anyone who thought they could beat him. From what Jim had seen of the game, he doubted anyone in the room could. The guy wasn't calling for bets though. He just wanted to play someone. _No way. You don't even know for sure you can play. _Jim turned back to the man, and a slow smile came to his face. _What could it hurt? _He stood up and met the challenge.

The other man broke and sank three balls before missing a bank shot. Jim took his cue and turned his gaze to the table, calculating his options. He set up a shot and wasn't all that surprised when he made the shot easily. After a while he found himself lost in the game. He set up and sank shot after shot until he finally sank the eight ball to win. He stood back, and grinned. _Okay, so I'm really good at pool. _He could definitely use this later. The men and women who had gathered to watch the game congratulated him and the guy Jim had played was actually gracious about it.

Jim walked out of the bar. He looked around for a moment, wondering what he was going to do now. He turned down an alley. He just needed to find a place to sleep tonight, he could figure everything out in the morning. Kingsport was bigger than Morristown. He could find something here.

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Sam sat on his bed, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do now. He had looked up basically everything supernatural he could find and he thought he knew what they were dealing with. The problem was it didn't bring him any closer to a location. How the hell was he supposed to find Dean without telling John what he'd found?

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She was furious. He was gone. She didn't expect him to leave like this. He had left without a word, without letting the woman who had taken him in know. She had been resting at the time, figuring it was safe to do so at the time. Getting to Sam and John and had drained her and she'd needed the rest. But now the boy was gone. He had slipped through her fingers. She closed her unnatural eyes and calmed herself. All was not lost. She would find him. She would implement her plan. Nothing could stop her from getting her revenge.

Note: I looked at the map again and Kingsport and Morristown are directly connected by a highway. So, Dean's there now! I'm having a little writers block for the next chapter though. I can't figure a way to get Sam and Dean in the same place.


	6. Chapter 6

Note: I wanted to say thanks to Shezzi for the help with this chapter.

He stood and stretched his sore muscles. He'd slept on a park bench the night before. He groaned. He was cold and hungry. He walked towards town, thinking of finding some food at the very least.

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Sam jumped into the Impala. He'd offered to go get some aspirin for John. The real reason was that if he stayed in the motel room with the grumpy and depressed John one more minute, he might go crazy. Sam had been hopeful that when John woke up he might be back to himself but no such luck. The man had only spouted about how they weren't going to find Dean. Despite the fact that Sam knew that John was under the influence of the supernatural, he still found himself getting angry. He'd had to get out of there. He drove the Impala into town.

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He was starting across the street when it happened. He looked up at the lane he was in and saw a large sleek black car heading his way. He stopped short in the middle of the road. He was hit with such a feeling of familiarity that he didn't think about where he was stopping.

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Sam had taken his eyes off the road for only a second. He'd dropped the tape he'd been intending to put in. He looked down to find it, glancing back up at the road only a second later. Someone was standing in the middle of the road, right in front of him. Sam cursed and slammed on the brakes.

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He snapped back to himself at the sound of screeching breaks. He stopped breathing for a second. It was to late to get out of the way. He closed his eyes, expecting the hit. After several seconds and no pain, he opened them. The car had stopped only a few inches from his legs. He looked up with wide eyes to the kid behind the wheel.

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Sam closed his eyes as he slammed down harder on the brakes. When the car stopped, he cautiously opened them, terrified of what he would see. When he looked up he let out a breath of relief. The car had stopped in time. The breath caught in his throat when he looked up at the man he had almost hit and he found himself staring into his older brothers dark green eyes.

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He and the kid stared at each other and the sense of familiarity grew in his chest. Honking horns snapped both of them out of their daze, and he hurriedly got out of the road as the kid parked his car. The kid jumped out of the car and stared at him for several seconds.

"Dean? I can't believe it." His eyes snapped up to the kids.

"You know me?" He asked, feeling a fear grow in his chest.

"What are you talking about, Dean? Of course I know you. I'm your brother, Sam." He stared at Sam. So that was his name, Dean. Well, he had to admit that he liked that name a lot better than Jim. He took in Sam. He was a kid. Probably still in his teens. Maybe late teens. He locked his eyes with Sam's dark ones. He certainly didn't look like a killer. But then again, most killers didn't. He didn't remember Sam from any of his dreams. He remembered an older man.

"Dean, hey, are you okay?" Sam asked, snapping him out of his thoughts. He set his jaw, making a decision.

"I don't know you." He said finally. "And I don't want to. Leave me the hell alone."

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Sam was stunned to say the least. His heart wrenched at Dean's tone. His brother really had forgotten him. Dean turned and left. Sam was so shocked that it took him a few seconds to start following. He would not loose his brother again.

"Dean, wait!" Sam yelled as they turned down an alley.

"I told you to leave me alone, Sammy!" Sam stopped short at the familiar nickname. And so did Dean. Dean growled loudly and spun towards Sam. He grabbed Sam by the collar and pinned him to the wall of one of the buildings.

"Listen, Sam. I don't remember you. And I don't want to remember you. I know what you do. What I used to do. I don't want to do it anymore. If you don't stay away from me, I might make an exception." Sam frowned as Dean released him and stepped back. He opened his mouth to respond when Dean suddenly cried out and grabbed his head. He fell to his knees and Sam had to catch him before he face planted.

"Dean!"


	7. Chapter 7

Dean groaned and cried out. He felt like his head was exploding. Images flashed through his mind. They came so fast that he could barely make sense of them.

Fire. He saw fire. Something was burning. He stared up at the blazing flames. His gaze lowered when he felt a tiny hand curl around his.

Someone was crying. He got up from bed and went into the next room were a crib stood. He looked into the it at the small child. He reached in and picked up the screaming child. "Don't worry. I'll always protect you."

He turned over in bed and opened his eyes. He found himself staring into familiar dark brown ones. "Nightmare?" He asked the small child, scooting over in the bed to make room. The younger boy nodded and got into bed beside him.

The images sped up and he groaned louder. He was vaguely aware of someone holding onto him.

Walking the now older boy home from school...making dinner for the two of them...stepping in front of the boy when he was in danger...playing games that the boy wanted to play when he was bored.

Dean's eyes burned and when he came back to himself he was on his knees in the alley being supported by Sam. He pushed himself away from Sam and stared at the kid. There was no mistake about it.

"So, I guess you are my brother." He said finally. Sam nodded and smiled, relieved. Dean shook his head.

"Don't look to happy. I'm still not so sure about all this." He sighed. Sam's smile disappeared and Dean felt a wave of protectiveness for the kid. Dean felt the first wave of doubt. There was no way this kid was a murderer. He chewed his lip, going through everything he'd learned since he'd woken up in the woods. For the first time he seriously doubted the validity of his dreams. But he knew Sam was his little brother. He just knew it. Even if the flashes of memory he'd just gotten could have been fake. He made a decision.

"So, are you going to help me up or not?" Sam's grin came back and he offered a hand.

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She cursed. They'd already met up. She'd underestimated Sam and Dean's bond. The fact that one meeting had jogged loose some of Dean's memories proved that. _Well, _she thought as she watched the boys head back towards the Impala. _I guess I'll have to go for the direct approach. _

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Dean sat a little nervously in the passenger seat. He still wasn't to sure he should be doing this. But something inside of him wouldn't let him walk away from Sam. Sam was quiet, but Dean caught him shooting glances his way.

"Do you know what happened to you?" Sam asked finally. Dean shook his head.

"Woke up in the woods outside Morristown. Didn't remember how I got there." Sam's eyes widened.

"Morristown? That's like forty miles away." Dean nodded.

"Yeah, I know." He looked around at the interior of the car, searching for a way to change the subject. "Nice car." Sam grinned.

"Yeah. It's yours." Dean's eyes snapped up and he frowned.

"Really? Then why the hell are you driving?" Sam scowled a little.

"Oh, come on. You didn't even know it was yours."

"Not the point, Sammy." He said calmly, not even seeming to notice that he'd slipped.

"It's Sam." He said right back, and then cursed himself when Dean stared at him for a few seconds and turned his head to stare out the window. It was just an automatic response when Dean called his that. Sam pulled into the motel parking lot and turned of the engine.

"Um, Dean. I should tell you, dad's probably in there." Dean's head snapped up.

"Dad?" Dean asked, feeling a sense of foreboding.

"Yeah." Dean shook his head.

"I don't know if I-" His words cut off when another headache hit. Only this time no images sprang to mind. Only a blinding pain.

Sam panicked slightly when Dean cried out in pain for a second time that day. At first he wasn't. After all Dean had been fine before, but then Dean's head banged against the back of his seat and blood trickled from his nose and Sam knew this time was different. He turned and held Dean steady. Dean shook some and groaned against Sam's shoulder. Finally he fell limp in Sam's arms.


	8. Chapter 8

Note: Sorry, this chapter's really short.

Sam's panic grew as he felt Dean pass out in his arms. He drew Dean back and frantically checked him over. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found that Dean was at least still breathing. He chewed his lip and fought back tears. Dean was ghastly pale and blood leaked from his nose. Sam didn't really know what to do. Should he take him to the hospital? Sam had never really been in this type of situation before. John was still in the grips of whatever took Dean. Sam couldn't count on him. For the first time it was up to Sam to save his brother. Alone. And he was terrified that he wouldn't be good enough.

Sam pulled open the passenger door of the Impala and lifted Dean out. He pulled Dean into a fireman's carry and groaned under his brother's weight. Dean may have been shorter than him but he was more compact. He managed to get Dean to the door and open it. He dropped his brother on the bed that John was not occupying. John sprang up from the other bed.

"Sam." He whispered, staring at Dean. "Sam, what did you do?" Sam frowned at his father.

"What does it look like I did? I found Dean. Alive." John was staring at Dean, though.

"That's not Dean."

"What?"

"That's not your brother. Dean is dead." A sliver of fear worked it's way through Sam's heart.

"Dad, this is Dean." Sam said firmly. "Of cource it's Dean. I know my brother."

"And I know my son, Sammy. Dean's dead." John tapped his temple and Sam couldn't get over how crazy the man looked at the moment. "I saw him die." John looked back at the bed. "It's a trick." And then to Sam's horror, John brought out his knife. "I'm not fallin' for it." Sam stood frozen for a few seconds before bringing out the gun he had tucked in his waistband. He stepped behind his dad. After only a brief hesitation he brought the butt of the gun down on his dad's head. John crumpled to the floor and Sam stared down at the gun in his hands for a few seconds, shocked at what just happened. He forced himself out of the stupor finally and went over to his brother.

Sam got Dean back into the Impala and drove to another motel. He checked in and carried his brother to the room. After getting Dean settled he laid out salt lines around the door and windows and even around his and Dean's beds.

When he was finally done, Sam sat on the bed next to Dean. He took his brothers hand and the tears he'd been holding back since this had begun fell. He felt like the last man standing. He didn't know what to do to help Dean, and he wished his brother was here. Not the one who didn't even remember who Sam was, but the one who always knew what to do.

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She smiled. It had worked. She'd turned John against his own sons. Now, all she needed was Sam.


	9. Chapter 9

Sam was almost asleep. He'd been watching Dean for what seemed like hours and was finding it hard to keep his eyes open. He hadn't slept much since Dean had disappeared. His head fell forward and his eyes closed. He was drifting deeper when movement woke him. He looked around blearily to find what had woken him. He jolted fully awake when he realized it was Dean. Dean was sitting strait up in bed, looking a little wildly around the room.

"Dean?" Dean's bloodshot eyes landed on Sam and widened.

"Who-" He cut off, shaking his head. He looked extremely confused.

"Hey, man, don't worry." Sam stood from the chair he had fallen asleep in. "It's Sam, remember? You passed out."

"Passed out?"

"Yeah, your sick, Dean. But don't worry. I'm going to help you." Dean scowled.

"I don't get sick, Sammy." His scowl turned into a frown of confusion. Sam's eyes widened a little bit. Dean used to say that every time he got sick before a hunt. Dean hated to miss a hunt because he might be sick. It had led to some close calls.

"Do you remember anything?" Sam asked hopefully. Dean stared at him for a minute.

"I don't-" His frown deepened and he looked around the room. "I was somewhere else." Sam nodded.

"What do you mean you were somewhere else? Where were you, Dean?"

"There were woods." Dean said. He stared strait through Sam, his eyes slightly glazed.

"Woods?" Sam prompted when Dean didn't continue. Dean's eyes focused and he frowned at Sam again.

"I think I'm supposed to be somewhere." He said, getting up. Sam stepped forward.

"No, Dean. Listen, we can't leave yet. Not until I figure out a way to fix this."

"North Carolina." Dean said abruptly. Sam gasped a little.

"What?" Dean's frown deepened.

"That's were we are, right? I'm supposed to go somewhere."

"Dean, we're not in North Carolina, not anymore." Sam said carefully. They had been, though. Before Dean had left for his hunt and disappeared. They had been in North Carolina. Sam frowned at his brother. He wasn't sure if this was progress or not. Dean seemed totally confused. Mixing up what memory he did have.

"But we were." Dean insisted. "We were there." He looked up at Sam. Sam shook his head a little.

"Dean, we're in Tennessee. You went on a hunt."

"A hunt? What was I hunting?" Sam hesitated. He didn't know how much Dean was remembering and he didn't want to freak his brother out.

"You know what, that doesn't matter. What matters now is getting you better." Sam gripped Dean's shoulder and sat him back down on the bed. "Dean, I need you to tell me what you do remember. Do you know who I am?" Dean's brow creased for a minute and he looked at Sam.

"My brother? Your my brother." Sam grinned a little. Even if it sounded a little bit like a question, it was still a relief.

"Yeah, I'm your brother." Dean smiled a little.

"That's good." Dean sounded just as relieved as Sam felt.

"Did you remember me?" Dean shook his head a little.

"You said so right? Your my brother, Sam." Sam closed his eyes and sat back. The relieved feeling was gone.

"Yeah, I said so." Dean nodded, his smile growing. Then he yawned. "Can I sleep now, Sam? I'm tired." Sam smiled a little sadly.

"Yeah, you can sleep now." Dean nodded and laid back. He was back to sleep in just a minute. Sam stared at his brothers still form for a moment. He blinked back tears. He wasn't sure how to deal with this. When he found he couldn't take it anymore, he opened the motel door, and stepped outside.

Sam stood in the parking lot and stared out for a while. The way Dean was, it was just, well, unnatural and disturbing. Sam sighed and turned to go back but something stopped him. He really felt it more than anything else. Something was there. Panic surged in him and he ran towards the motel room. He was at the door when the headache hit. It was fierce and brought him to his knees. He wavered for a minute, hand gripping the doorknob and then the world went black. The last thing he saw was a woman with unnaturally pale skin smiling at him.


	10. Chapter 10

Note: Okay, so this is my last chapter.

Sam woke up slowly. He tried to move but found he couldn't. Lifting his head he looked down at himself. He was chained to a wall in what looked like a basement. He glanced around the room.

"Dean?" Sam said. Dean was sitting in the opposite corner. He wasn't chained like Sam, but he didn't look to well. He was sitting with his knees pulled up and his arms wrapped around his chest. Dean looked up at Sam's voice and wrapped his arms tighter around himself.

"She's coming back." Dean said, his voice trembling. "She said she was coming back."

"Dean, we have to get out of here." Too late. The door opened and a woman walked in. She was tall with pale skin and long dark hair. She smiled at Sam.

"Hello, Sam." Sam struggled against the chains.

"Who are you? Why are you doing this?" Her smiled widened a little and she walked over to Dean.

"Why?" She reached up and laid a hand on Dean's bowed head. He cringed away from her touch but didn't fight back. "For revenge, of course."

"What did we ever do to you?"

"Oh, Sam. Not you. Either of you. This is about your father."

"Then why take Dean? Why this elaborate plan? Why not just go after dad?"

"Because, silly. The best way to get to John is to go through his boys."

"So your gonna what? Kill us?" She stepped away from Dean and stood in front of Sam.

"No, Sam, I'm not going to kill you. Oh, you are going to die here. But not by my hand."

"What exactly did dad do to you?" Sam asked, changing the subject. The smiled left her face and fury lit her eyes.

"Killed my sister is what he did."

"What are you? A witch?"

"I wasn't always." Her eyes unfocused a little and she even sounded wistful. "My sister was bitten by a werewolf. I was trying to find a cure. But your father killed her before I could do anything. So, I began searching for a way to get revenge. And I found a way. Someone who could give me the power to get my revenge in exchange for something of mine." Realization dawned on Sam and he raised a horrified gaze to her.

"You sold your soul." She nodded and then looked down at herself.

"They gave me until my body gives out. You see they gave me the power but humans weren't really meant for it. Soon my body will give under the pressure. But not before I have my revenge." Sam swallowed and looked over at Dean again. The smile came back to her face.

"Oh, don't expect him to help you." She walked back to Dean and traced a hand over his face. "He's useless right now." She tilted her head up and her smile grew. "He's coming. I left him a few clues." She winked at Sam and closed her eyes. Sam watched as she vanished right in front of him. Sam nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt cold hands on his cheek.

"Don't worry, Sam." Her voice came from beside him. "I wouldn't miss this for the world." It was a few seconds later when the door banged open. John was standing there, gun in hand. His eyes searched the room and landed on Sam.

"Sam, are you okay?" Sam nodded. "Sam, why did you do that to me?" Sam frowned.

"Dad, your not yourself. You were going to kill Dean!" John shook his head.

"I told you Sam, that was not Dean." He looked around the room again and his gaze landed on Dean, still huddled in the corner. John stared at Dean.

"Don't worry, Sammy. I'll kill it. And then you'll see. You'll be okay." He cocked the gun and walked over to Dean. Sam struggled harder against the chains.

"Dad, don't! That is Dean!" Sam gave a yell, startled when she materialized in front of him. She reached up and put a hand on Sam's throat.

"Sorry Sam. But it's time to say goodbye. Look at it this way you and Dean are dying at the same time." Sam couldn't hold back a scream when pain surged through his head.

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Dean was confused and scared. The woman scared the shit out of him. He didn't really know where he was but he knew he couldn't leave. She'd told him not to leave. She'd told him not to move. So, he didn't. Then he heard the scream. It sounded familiar. He frowned. A part of his brain that he didn't even remember any more screamed at him to do something. That it was his responsibility to stop the scream. He looked up. And found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

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Sam wasn't aware of anything other than pain. He didn't know how long it went on. Suddenly, it stopped as fast as it had started and he wondered if he was finally dead. He opened his eyes. Shock filled him. She wasn't in front of him anymore. She was on the floor, dead. A bullet hole strait through her temple. Sam stared, shocked and then looked up. His older brother was standing there, gun in hand. Sam could see John getting up off the floor. He had a bloody nose. John stood beside Dean. His eyes held every emotion that Sam was sure that he would never voice. Relief that they were both okay. Horror that he had almost shot his oldest son. He clapped Dean on the shoulder.

"You did good," was all he said. Dean simply nodded still staring down at the body of the woman.

"Um, excuse me?" Sam said, breaking the somber mood. "Still tied up here." Dean looked up at his brother and grinned.

"What Sam, no thank you?" Dean began undoing the locks. "I did just save your ass, you know." Sam snorted.

"Yeah, after I saved yours."

"Yeah, but Sammy I was cooler about it. Dude, I knocked out dad!"

"Hey!" John said, but without any anger. In fact, amusement lit John's eyes a little.

"Sorry." Dean said to John, not looking sheepish at all. Sam grinned.

"Don't be sorry." Sam answered for John. "It was kind of cool." John rolled his eyes.

"Alright, come on boys. Let's get out of here."

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Everything went back to normal after that. Dean didn't talk about what had happened and neither did John or Sam. Sam thought that John just wanted to forget about it. Sam didn't want to, though. He didn't want to forget what Dean meant to him. That Dean had broken through that magic for him. To save him. And how he'd never been more scared in his life than when Dean disappeared. He really hoped that he never forgot it.


End file.
